Broken: An Expansion of Disney's Cinderella
by clicketykeys
Summary: This story parallels the original Disney movie, beginning immediately after the transformation scene and continuing through the rest of the movie. The idea is to focus on the "untold" parts or perspectives of a familiar story. *NOTE* This story is currently on hiatus, as my Star Wars characters are being much louder in their demands for attention. I do intend to finish it!
1. Lost

Chapter 1: Lost

Cinderella looked out the carriage window, waving until they turned a corner and she could no longer see her fairy godmother. Though she knew the magic would only last until midnight, excitement thrilled through her. She knew she would never forget how happy she was at this very moment, when it seemed that anything - anything at all - was possible.

Down the road and through the town, the sparkling carriage lit up the houses as it passed by. Cinderella tucked her kerchief back inside her glove as they jostled over the cobblestone streets. Then, in what seemed next to no time at all, they were through the gates to the castle and gently pulling up by the exquisite marble staircase attended by dozens upon dozens of palace guards in crisp blue uniforms.

When the door opened, she cautiously stepped down from the carriage. She smiled at the footman as he closed the door again and hopped up on his perch on the back. "Wish me luck, Bruno!" she whispered, and his devoted doggy-eyes crinkled as he smiled back at her. Then the carriage drove off, and she was alone.

She drew a breath and began to make her way up the wide staircase, the lush red carpet padding each step she took. The silence seemed to echo around her, and the happiness of moments before ebbed slightly. The guards were stiff and statue-like. Everyone else would have arrived in groups of friends, or family. She knew it would be at best unusual for a young lady to arrive alone and unchaperoned. Maybe it would be better just to - She looked over her shoulder, but the carriage was nowhere to be seen. _Besides_, she told herself. _There's no sense in running away before I even see anything, just because I'm by myself!_

Cinderella straightened her shoulders and climbed the rest of the stairs. She paused as she came to the main hallway. She could hear the patter of conversations coming from down the hall, though it was far too distant to understand any of it. _That must be the ballroom_, she thought. Nervously she walked on, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched as she continued to pass the guards.

As she approached a large archway, she heard names being called out. "Mademoiselle Augustina duBois!" the herald cried, "daughter of General Pierre duBois!" Cinderella saw that he was reading from a long list, and was almost at the end. _Oh dear... do I need to have my name put on that list?_ she wondered. _Is he the one who makes the list? Or... or should I speak with someone else?_ Feeling awkward and confused, she hesitated. She looked again at the laughing, chattering girls in their expensive gowns adorned with feathers and jewels.

_I don't really belong here. All the magic in the world can't change that._ With a heavy heart, Cinderella turned and headed back toward the archway that led out of the palace.


	2. And Found

Chapter 2: And Found

"Mademoiselles Drizella and Anastasia Tremaine, daughters of Lady Tremaine!" cried the herald.

As he watched Cinderella's stepsisters prance up the red carpet, the prince sighed and glanced up to the balcony, where his father the king sat, peering down at the ballroom. _And he wonders why I'm not already married_. He was somewhat gratified to see the older man shudder when he saw the girls' attempt at flirtation. _At least he has_ some _sense_.

The stepsisters curtsied, and the prince bowed, as he had countless times already that evening.

And then he paused.

Out on the terrace stood another girl - one he didn't remember - he didn't think she had been introduced - surely he would have remembered if she had. Her brows were pulled together in the most adorable expression of uncertainty, and for some strange reason, he wanted to go over and tell her not to worry, even if it wasn't protocol. And then **she looked at him.**

The one with the red hair noticed first, and batted her eyelashes coyly, but he hardly noticed, and he certainly didn't much care, because the girl turned to go, and - no - _Hang protocol_, he thought, _and let the gossips talk all they want_. He couldn't let her leave, not when she smiled so sadly.

And so he stepped forward and walked past the two sisters, ignoring them completely as he went between them, for his eyes (and his heart, though he didn't yet realize it) were fixed on the girl ahead of him.

He reached out and touched her hand. "Excuse me," he said.

She turned, with a soft "oh!" of surprise.

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "Were you leaving already?"

"Well..." She looked back into the ballroom, then sighed. "I don't much know what I'm doing here, I'm afraid."

With a quiet chuckle, he held a hand out to her. "Sometimes, I feel the same way. But... it would be a shame to leave without a dance." He held his breath as she looked up into his eyes.

"No one else is dancing." And yet she placed her hand in his, and just as she did, the lights in the ballroom dimmed, and the orchestra struck up a waltz.

He smiled as he led her into the room. "Well, then, perhaps we can show them what they're missing."

And she smiled back at him, and this time, her smile didn't have the slightest trace of sadness.


	3. Watching and Whining

[AN: I had originally intended Chapter 3 to be the king getting ready for bed, jubilant at the thought of grandchildren. Unfortunately, without writing in an OC, there's no interaction, and not really any action, either. I haven't given up on it entirely, but I'm moving on (for now). Let me tell you, this scene was MUCH more fun to write!]

**Chapter 3: Watching and Whining**

Anastasia hopped up and down, craning her neck. "But who **is** she, mother?" Her ostrich plume bobbed precariously.

As the couple danced past, Drizella tried to peer between the people who blocked her view. "Do we know her?" she asked. While she nearly upended her crinolines, there were too many others watching the prince dance with the mysterious newcomer for her to get more than a fleeting glimpse between the waists of the ladies in front of her.

"Well the **prince** certainly seems to," sneered Anastasia, her curls flailing as she hopped again. "But I know I've never seen her."

Lady Tremaine shook her head. "Nor I," she said as the prince and Cinderella twirled by. "But she certainly is - wait..." She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "There **is** something familiar about her." Curious, she followed the couple at a discreet distance.

Drizella scowled after her. "Well what are **we** supposed to do?" she complained. "It's not like there's anyone around for **us** to dance with. But that's what's bound to happen if you invite every girl in the kingdom and none of the young men." She folded her arms across her chest, her mouth screwed into a sulky pout.

"What about that fellow over there in the blue?" asked Anastasia, squinting.

Rolling her eyes, Drizella elbowed her sister. "Stupid. We can't dance with the guards." She sniffed. "They're **common**."

Anastasia stuck her tongue out at Drizella, completely ignorant of the raised eyebrows that were being directed their way. "Stupid yourself - not the guard, the one with the sash." She pointed a knobby finger at a figure across the ballroom.

Now it was Drizella's turn to squint. "That's just Colonel de la Tour. He's old. Really, if I'd known nobody **important** was going to be here, I wouldn't have bothered with my double-layered overskirt." She fluffed the expensive fabric and tilted her nose up. "I really think if that rude girl hadn't barged in while we were being announced, though, the prince might have danced with me instead."

With a noisy sigh, Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Now who's being stupid? **I'm** the one he was staring at. And I didn't even get to wear my best pink feather."

An elderly lady near the sisters cleared her throat rather noisily. Drizella scowled at her. "If you're sick, you ought to have stayed home instead of infecting everybody else." She took her sister's arm. "Let's head back to the carriage," she said, looking down her nose at the other woman. "I'm tired of being around people who are ignorant and rude."

And arm in arm, Cinderella's stepsisters flounced out of the ballroom, never noticing the audible sigh of relief behind them.


	4. Alone Together

Chapter 4: Alone Together

_This is ever so much nicer than dancing with a mop!_ With one hand on the prince's shoulder and his hand at her waist, Cinderella swirled effortlessly around the ballroom, her silvery-blue skirt sparkling faintly in the light from the chandeliers above. And he was **smiling** at her. _And he's handsome, too. He has a very nice smile_.

There was a hushed not-quite-silence around them. Whispers seemed to float in the air, and Cinderella noticed the curious glances directed their way. "Why is everyone staring at us?" she whispered.

He chuckled, the sound low, warm, and soothing. "They must be mesmerized by your beauty," he replied, his smile widening as she glanced down and blushed. He watched her for a moment more, then added, "As am I."

She almost froze in surprise, but he held her steadily and pulled her into a turn to cover the hesitation. _Surely he's just being polite_, she thought. And yet there was the way he looked at her. Even though it had been a long time since anyone had treated her with the slightest bit of kindness, she clearly remembered the tenderness in her father's smile. But this...

A shiver tickled its way up her spine. _This is something more_.

She looked past his shoulder at the crowd of beauties watching them. "There are many beautiful young women here tonight," she said, her brows lifting faintly.

He lifted a shoulder somewhat carelessly. "I suppose," he said. "But I am not dancing with them. Only with you."

The chatter of the guests in the ballroom was behind them now, as they danced out onto the terrace. She blushed again, then looked up once more, lifting her chin up almost saucily. "At the moment, certainly. But I've only just arrived." She tilted her head just a touch. "It could very well be that you've already spent hours dancing, and I was simply next in line." Cinderella felt her palms grow moist inside her gloves as she gently teased the handsome stranger.

"It could well be," said the prince, nodding gallantly. "It's possible that I've danced with a hundred others tonight." The noise from the ballroom was abruptly muffled as a heavy drape fell across the archway they had danced through. The prince looked over his shoulder and chuckled, shaking his head, before looking at Cinderella again with a quiet smile. "I can't remember, you see. All I can think about is you."

Cinderella's eyes crinkled as she laughed aloud. "My father warned me about men who flatter. He said that such men are _dangerous_."

"Dangerous, eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she laughed again. "Of course, flattery implies deceit, and I assure you, my lady, I only speak the truth. Besides, _my_ father warned _me_ about beautiful women. He said that they were the dangerous ones."

They twirled again, and Cinderella felt as though her heart was spinning within her as well. "Then perhaps you are the one who should be afraid, _my lord,"_ she returned, her smile softening the pert tone to her words.

The prince paused, and let go of her hand. He reached up and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Petrified," he whispered. They stood there, still, and then he moved slightly closer, and -

She caught her breath when the loud _clang!_ from the tower clock startled her as it chimed out the quarter-hour. The silence afterward seemed deafening.

With a frown, the prince stepped back, glancing over his shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "Thanks, you old killjoy." He looked back at her, seeming torn. "Perhaps we should go back in, but..." He paused.

Cinderella stepped toward him. She lifted her hand, then she, too, paused. "But?" she asked.

He reached out and took her hand in his. "I think I would rather stay out here with you," he finished.

Her eyes shining with something beyond words, Cinderella smiled, and they walked together out into the garden, beneath the stars.


	5. An Unexpected Occurrence

[AN: This scene was interesting to write; I'm sure I'm overthinking things, but it's kind of challenging to reconcile someone as ambitious and domineering as Lady Tremaine with her pampered, selfish children.]

Lady Tremaine sighed as the hired carriage bounced and creaked along the darkened city streets back out to the countryside. Anastasia and Drizella were sitting on the opposite bench, bickering as usual - Anastasia's shrill whine countered by Drizella's nasal squawking - and Lady Tremaine felt her patience wearing thin. She took a careful breath, and pulled her narrow mouth into a tight smile. "Remember: a lady always keeps her voice low and her tone soothing."

Anastasia pouted. "But, Mother, it isn't _fair_. I don't see why we can't have nice things like everyone else does!" She picked at the pink lace on her fan and let out a petulant huff. "I'm sure Fredericka wore her gloves from Madame Tournay just to spite me! She knows I've been begging for a new pair for weeks."

Drizella rolled her eyes. "I've told you a thousand times, you shouldn't wear pink anyway. It looks just awful with your hair."

"Better than yours with that huge floppy bow!" Tilting her nose up, Anastasia stuck her tongue out at her sister. "Obviously you know nothing about fashion; it isn't _pink_, it's _magenta_. And besides - eep!" Whatever Anastasia was going to add was cut off with a shriek as the carriage lurched to a stop at the head of the drive.

Gathering her heavy woolen shawl around her shoulders, Lady Tremaine cleared her throat. "Proper posture, girls: shoulders back, eyes forward." The driver opened the carriage door and she stepped down gracefully, then turned - and stiffened, ever so slightly - as her daughters lurched out, tangling themselves in their full skirts and petticoats. It was as though they paid careful attention to everything she said, and then made absolutely certain to do the exact opposite. She stepped quickly toward them, herding them toward the door. "Come along now." Though she gave a regal nod to dismiss the driver, she made no attempt to hide the threat in her gaze, daring him to say so much as a word against her beloved daughters.

But either he had learned a great deal about how to deal with aristocratic pride, or he simply didn't notice. He simply touched the brim of his hat, mumbled "Evenin', mum," as he stepped up to his seat again, and drove off.

The house was quiet as they entered, but light still shone from the kitchen. Lady Tremaine folded her shawl over her arm. "Cinderella!" she called, but there was no answer. She frowned, her eyes narrowing.

Noticing her mother's expression, Anastasia mimicked it, though her exaggerated scowl was more comical than threatening. "She's probably gone to bed already, the lazy thing."

Drizella smirked. "It's not like she had anything better to do." Both girls sniggered rather nastily.

A swift glance around the dark hall showed that at least Cinderella had cleaned up the remains of that ridiculous costume she'd scrounged up. Still, it wasn't like her to leave lights burning. Lady Tremaine glanced up the stairs, but the idea of climbing all the way up to the tower to give Cinderella the tongue-lashing she deserved... her feet hurt just at the thought of it. "Well, she can't go off and sulk any time she doesn't get her way. I'll have to speak to her in the morning." She turned to her daughters. "Take a candle from the kitchen and go to bed. It's important to be well-rested for your lessons in the morning."

"But we're not a bit tired!" Drizella's claim seemed less believable when she followed it with a yawn that she didn't bother to hide.

Anastasia pouted again. "If you're just mad because he danced with That Girl instead of us..." Her protest faltered under a chilling glare from her mother.

"**_At once_**," said Lady Tremaine, and the girls knew better than to keep trying when she used that tone. They scurried obediently up the stairway without another word.


	6. Shoop, Shoop

**Chapter 6: "Shoop, Shoop"**

It was delightfully peaceful out in the garden, and as the tension that had knotted in his shoulders through the evening began to float away, the prince let out a deep sigh of contentment. He felt a bit more pressure on his arm as the girl beside him paused, and when he glanced at her, she was looking at him uncertainly.

She smiled, but the smile hesitated, a little, at the corners of her mouth. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," he said, and then understanding dawned, and he squeezed her hand gently to reassure her. It was quite pleasant, just standing there with her looking up at him, even if that's all they were doing, but of course she would probably get bored, and he didn't want that, so maybe he should do something. Or say something. _**Anything!**_ Still gazing down at her, he added, "I was just admiring the view." _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Who says something that cheesy? You're not twelve any more!_

But to his immense surprise and relief, she did NOT giggle and simper, "Oooo, your HIGHNESS, you naughty thing!" as he had feared. Well, she didn't seem the giggle-and-simper sort, but then, after all, he'd only just met her. Rather, she looked out over the smooth white flagstones and stretching lawns, and she nodded. "It's marvelous."

_The gardens. She thought he's meant the gardens! _The prince sent a silent-yet-fervent prayer of thanks up to the heavens, and then stepped forward a bit. "Would you care to look around?"

"If you..." She paused, head tilted, then tilted her chin up and looked directly at him. "Yes," she said, and her eyes sparkled. "I would like that very much." And she reached up and tucked her hand in the bend of his elbow.

He smiled back at her - again - and led her down the path. "I'm glad you approve," he said. "My mother helped design this."

In between looking around at the sculpted bushes and the statues of fine marble they highlighted, she glanced at him. "Oh? Well, she certainly has wonderful taste."

There were another few moments of silence, and then the prince cleared his throat. "Had," he corrected, his voice tight. He'd assumed she would know, but outside the family, it was more of a political matter, and... _Bother. Of course I've gone and put a damper on things._

Because her smile had faded. "I'm so very, very sorry," she said, turning to face him.

He shook his head, his mouth a thin line. "It's nothing," he lied easily, with a half-shrug. "After all, it's been years and years."

She frowned at that. "It isn't 'nothing,' no matter how many years it's been." She looked down. "Maybe the pain dulls, somewhat." The silence stretched, and somehow the weight that had been deep inside him lifted slightly. "But it never goes away. Not entirely."

His eyes stung, and he watched the clouds drift past the stars for several moments before he felt steady enough to reply. "Thank you," he said, and fortunately his voice only wobbled a very little.

"You're welcome?" She looked at him, her brows drawn together in puzzlement.

Turning to face her, he took both her hands in his. "For understanding," he explained. "I mean – I'm sorry that you do, because of course… well, you know." _Not going well_. He took a breath and tried again. "I wouldn't have wanted that for you. But I'm also glad that you do, because it means that now…" He scowled, looking away. _Blast. Why must everything seem so complicated?_

She stepped closer, and lifted his hands to her cheek, resting her head against them. He scarcely dared to move – to breathe. A heartbeat later, she whispered, "Now that someone understands, I don't feel so alone anymore."

He wasn't sure how long they simply stood there, nestled against each other. He thought perhaps he felt her move, and so he took a step back. "Her favorite part was the fountain," he said, his voice still rough. They walked over toward it, the quiet splashes adding a soft counter-melody to the music that still filtered out from the ballroom. "She called it her Wishing Well."

The girl reached down, skimming the water with her gloved fingers, sending small ripples across the surface of the pool. "Is it really magic?" she asked with a gentle laugh.

He stooped to pick up a small white pebble. "Well, they say if you toss one of these into the fountain and make a wish, it'll come true." He handed her the pebble, and she held it between her thumb and forefinger, considering.

With a smile, she held the stone out to him. "But I don't need this," she said. "My wish came true already."

"Oh?" he asked, taking it back. "Very well, I suppose I will." He smiled at her, and then tossed the pebble into the fountain. The splash sent a scattering of tiny droplets into the air.

She tilted her head. "What did you wish for?" she asked, as they headed on down the walkway.

He lifted a hand, waggling a finger at her. "Ah-ah. You know better than that. If you tell a wish, it won't come true!" She laughed again. "Of course, you said yours already did, so that means _you_ can say what it was."

She twirled away, the moonlight sending sparkles through her dress. "This!" She beamed. "All of this. It's all so magical! Being here tonight – the music, the dancing…." She looked back at him, and a blush spread over her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

_Maybe Father's idea wasn't _entirely _stupid._ "You – you like music, then?" _My conversation, on the other hand…_

But the girl didn't seem to notice. "I love it." She lifted one shoulder. "I don't… well , I don't get to enjoy it very often."

_Was that a hint?_ He walked over to her, and held out his hand. "Well. Would you like to go back inside for another dance?" _Inside, with everyone else watching and no chance for a private moment._ His heart fell, but he smiled.

She looked over her shoulder toward the ballroom, and he felt a tightness in his chest. _Did I imagine everything? _"A dance sounds wonderful," she said slowly, but as his dreams began to crumble, she said, "but I would rather stay out here."

His breath caught in his throat. Dared he believe – ?

As if in answer to his unspoken question, she then looked into his eyes, and added, "With you."

The moon held its breath. The wind stood on silent tiptoes. And the stars hid their eyes as he took her in his arms, and they danced. Did time stand still? Or did it rush past? Perhaps they spoke, but he knew he would never remember a bit of it, for what he really meant with every word he said was _I love you._

Eventually they wandered back toward the palace, because of course, he would have to introduce her to his father. They crossed the little white wrought-iron bridge over the brook that cut a path across the eastern corner of the garden. She paused, looking down at the sparkling ripples. "Dreams really can come true, can't they?"

He placed his hand on hers, and she looked up at him. "I hope so," he said. As they walked up the path toward the terrace, his steps slowed. She turned toward him, a question in her eyes. "There's something…" he began. _Blast. I haven't the faintest idea what to do!_ He looked over at the low wall bordering the stairway."Why don't we sit down for a moment?"

Unfortunately, that bought him only the briefest reprieve, because as soon as they sat down, she was watching him, waiting for whatever it was he was going to say or do. He knew – he knew what he wanted to say – he just didn't know how to say it. So instead, he leaned closer and reached for her, soft skin warm even through his gloves, and when the palace clock struck, he didn't even notice.

But she did.

_[AN: Woo! Finally! I know, I know, it's been awhile - but as you can see, I haven't given up. This chapter was challenging-but-fun to write because of trying to synch everything up. I think I got it, though I had forgotten that THEY DON'T ACTUALLY KISS YET! I was really hoping to write that smooch but it just does NOT happen, unfortunately. Believe me, I know. I've watched "So This Is Love," like, a bojilyun times now._

_Also? Brownie points to the first person to find the super-hidden in-character insult!]_


	7. Flight

**Flight**

There is a delightful thrill that shivers through you in the sliver of an instant before a kiss - even more wonderful than the delicious, heavy anticipation just before that. I know it couldn't've been long, but the moment seemed to stretch forever as I wondered whether or not we would actually… well, you know. _Kiss_.

Then there was that briefest flash of realization, of certainty, of ecstasy, when I knew - not just believed, but _knew_ - that he would kiss me.

And that I would kiss him.

So I was terribly startled when the castle clock chimed the first notes of the melody it always plays just before striking the hour. All I could think was _It can't be - it's not fair!_ Perhaps it showed on my face, or maybe it was just my sudden hesitation. His voice was so gentle when he asked what was wrong. (I wanted to kiss him _even more!_)

What came out was "It's midnight." I don't think I've ever said anything quite so pointless. But what could I have said that wouldn't have sounded crazy? Or worse, like some sort of halfhearted excuse? Something that I was making up because I had just realized he was going to kiss me and I didn't want him to. Or because I found him boring. Or any of a hundred other conclusions he might come to that would be so wrong, because _I didn't want to leave._ I wanted so much to stay with him until … well, "until" hadn't occurred to me. I guess that was the problem.

He started to ask me why the time mattered, but I cut him off and began to walk away, because I didn't know what to say, and even if I did, I don't know if I could've said it. My "goodbye" caught in my throat, and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I knew I had to leave, but still - it hurt _so much_.

When he caught my wrist in his hand, it took me by surprise, and my heart fluttered. I wanted to be in his arms again; it had felt so right. And so I hesitated, even though in the back of my mind something kept chanting _leave now! leave now!_ Somehow when he asked me why (no accusation or anger in his voice; he just sounded surprised) I remembered that the ball had been in honor of the prince, and so I made the excuse that I hadn't seen the prince yet, which I hoped would seem quite reasonable. After all, it would be horribly rude to ignore the guest of honor, wouldn't it? Especially a royal one. I was actually rather pleased with such a clever dodge.

His jaw dropped, and guilt stabbed straight through me. Perhaps he thought I was brushing him off, but as he let go of my hands, the clock chimed the first stroke of midnight, and I grabbed my skirts and _ran_. Maybe my terror sped me along; maybe I had some help from the magic. Either way, I burst through the heavy curtain covering the archway, ran past the ballroom, out the main hallway and down the stairs. The carriage was just ahead, waiting for me.

I didn't stumble, but suddenly I was off-balance, and I could feel the plush carpet tickling my foot through my stocking - I realized I must have run right out of one of my slippers! When I turned to pick it up, I saw someone coming, waving his arms and yelling. So I turned and dashed the rest of the way to the carriage. Bruno helped me in, and even before the door had fully latched we were off.

I held on as best I could as we careened down the main road toward the city. As we approached the palace gates, I saw to my terror that they were pulling closed! _Faster, faster!_ sang my heart, and (was that magic, too?) we flew through the gates just before they shut.

But before I even had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, I realized that I heard hoofbeats behind me as well as before me. As we sped around the twists and turns of the city streets, I looked out the carriage window, back toward the palace, and I saw dark riders following our path. Were they gaining? I couldn't be sure.

The castle clock struck again, and again. I noticed that my hair was loose around my shoulders, and when I looked down at my dress, I watched as one moment it faded, and the next it would shimmer even more brightly before fading again. The clock struck again as we passed through the city gates and out into the countryside (fortunately the guard there simply watched as we barreled past). How was it possible that it hadn't finished chiming? I lost all track of time, wishing fervently that we could drive ever faster. The carriage began to shake, and the walls darkened and began to close in. I covered my face.

And then I felt a breeze on my arms. I looked up and saw that I was sitting on a pumpkin in the middle of the road, once again wearing what was left of my mother's dress.

There was no time for regret, though - at least not at that moment, for I heard hoofbeats rapidly approaching. We just had time to scramble out of the road and hide in the woods nearby when the riders who'd been chasing us thundered past, trampling my poor pumpkin to bits without slowing in the least. The last traces of magic splashed out of the broken shell and twinkled into nothingness, and once again the night was silent.

But for some reason, I didn't feel so alone anymore. It certainly helped that my friends were there with me. "I'm sorry," I told them with a guilty smile. "I guess I forgot about everything - even the time, but" I sighed, the memory of that lovely, lovely evening lifting my spirits even if it was over. "But it was so **wonderful**. And he was so handsome, and when we danced… oh, I'm sure that even the Prince himself couldn't have been more - more -"

They were so patient with me as I tried to explain something for which there were no words. Finally I gave up with a sigh, and lifted my shoulders. "Oh, well… it's over," I said, as much to myself as to them. I stood up, and for some reason, Jaques began shouting in little squeaks - he's always been rather high-spirited, but this was more than usual; I couldn't even understand what he was saying. I looked down, and he wasn't the only one. The others were jumping up and down and pointing. Even Bruno seemed excited, and that's definitely unusual.

That was when I saw that I wasn't barefoot. Or rather, that I was only half-barefoot. A prickle of goosebumps ran up my spine as I reached down to remove the glass slipper that hadn't changed back with everything else. At that moment, I knew that my fairy godmother was watching. "Thank you," I whispered to her. "Thank you so much - for everything." And as I cradled the slipper close to my heart, I knew that even if nothing in our house ever changed, I would somehow find the strength to keep dreaming.

And I would never, _ever_ forget this wonderful, magical night.


	8. Shattered

**Shattered**

_Who is she? _

_Where did she come from? _

_Isn't she lovely? _

_Do you know her family?_

Hemmed in on all sides by the most eligible ladies from the most aristocratic families, the Prince could only watch and despair as the girl with the quiet eyes fled out of the palace. It was not until he had greeted each of them (again) and promised every one of them a dance that they finally broke away in little gossiping clusters of two and three and headed back to the ballroom.

By the time he finally made his way down the front staircase, there was no sign of the mysterious young woman. But he saw his uncle, the Grand Duke, speaking with a group of the palace guards. As he walked briskly over, the duke turned toward him, drawing his feet together with a snap and his hands behind his back with his chest puffed out.

The prince merely nodded to him, then looked to one of the guards. "Have a horse saddled and brought to me immediately", he commanded. The guard saluted, and the prince turned to the duke. "Tell my father that I will not rest until I have found her," he said.

"Ah, y-your Highness," the duke began. "I have already sent a company of Royal Guards after her coach; it will not take them long to bring her back to the palace. Perhaps it would be best to ah to attend to your guests?" He let out a nervous little laugh when the prince s expression tightened. "There is no need to trouble yourself." He swallowed and attempted a smile. "Or, ah, your father."

One of the liveried stable boys ran toward them, leading a dappled silver charger. Looking from the horse to the duke, the prince sighed. "Thank you, Hubert," he said to the boy. "It seems I will not need my horse, after all." The child bowed and ran off again, and the prince turned to his uncle. When she is found, you will notify me _at once_." He paused, then added, "Does that belong to her?"

Beads of sweat dotted the Grand Duke's forehead. "Ah - erm - I beg your pardon?" he stammered.

The prince took a careful breath. "Whatever it is that you're holding behind your back, Uncle," he said.

"Oh! this! Yes, of course, ah how silly of me to have forgotten to mention it," the duke replied with a too-bright smile, holding out a small, clear high-heeled shoe. "She left it behind when she left."

_'Ran away' is what you mean_. The prince reached out and took the slipper from the duke. _Why didn't I ask for her name? And why did she run? Was it something I said? Something I did?_ Shaking his head, he handed the slipper back. "Tell my father that I will marry no one but her."

The duke's smile faded. "N-no one but her?"

"The only woman I will marry is the one whose foot fits this slipper," the prince said firmly, tapping the shoe for emphasis. "I give my word." He turned back toward the ballroom with a sigh. _Speaking of giving my word_... His steps were slow as he climbed the staircase and headed back through the archway.

But his smile was still charming, and the young lady to whom he offered his arm had no idea that his heart was heavy and his thoughts were far away.


	9. Changed World

**Chapter 9: Changed World**

A cool breeze blew through the window, and Cinderella felt sharp little feet lightly pricking her through her thin blanket. Sleepily, she rolled over and pulled the covers over her head, which really didn't do much to muffle the cheery warbling that began a moment later. Still, she mashed her eyelids shut against the brightening dawn, desperately clinging to the last little bit of the lingering dream... such a wonderful dream.

Except... _it hadn't been a dream._

Cinderella sat up suddenly, prompting a startled series of cheeps from the surprised bluebird who'd been perched on her shoulder. As the castle clock began to strike the hour, she touched her fingers to her lips. "It really did happen, didn't it?" she murmured, looking at her friends in wonder. "The ball – the palace – all of it." She slipped out of bed and went to the window, smiling softly as she looked at the distant castle. A prickle crept up her spine as she watched the hazy morning clouds drift past. Somehow the colors seemed sharper even in the pale early-morning light, and there was a strange tang to the air that she didn't quite recognize. She laughed, spinning around in her nightgown and hugging her pillow to her chest. "I suppose this is what it feels like to have your dreams come true."

Humming to herself, she pinned up her hair, washed, and got ready in what seemed like no time at all before hurrying downstairs to light the fires, feed the animals and begin breakfast. As she was boiling water for tea, the largest bell on the wall rang insistently. She frowned – who on earth would come visiting at this hour? It rang again, and she wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried toward the front door. She turned the bolt, opened the door, and to her surprise found herself looking at a handsome (if tired) young man wearing a tunic with the royal crest on the front. She curtsied, but before she could say much more than "Good morning," he held out a sealed envelope.

"By the order of His Royal Majesty the King this Notice is to be given to the Lord or Lady of the Household with all due Haste notwithstanding the Hour of the Day or Night God Save the King!"

Somehow he managed to get it all out in a single breath, and Cinderella pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. "Of course. Thank you," she said as she took the envelope, but he was already running down the drive. Closing the door, she shook her head in amusement. "All due haste indeed, it seems." She looked up the stairs uncertainly, then sighed. Her stepmother never liked 'intrusions,' as she called them, and could be particularly unpleasant in the mornings. Still – a royal command, after all.

It was a few moments after she knocked on the tall, heavy door that she heard her stepmother's voice call out, "Come in." Cinderella took a breath, and stepped through into the still-dark bedroom. She paused, her eyes slowly adjusting, and her stepmother snapped, "Well? What is it?"

"This came from the palace," she said, walking over to the bed and holding the envelope out. "They said to deliver it to you immediately."

Her stepmother snatched the envelope out of her hand, scowling at her, and broke the seal. She opened the letter, but before she began to read, her eyes narrowed. "What are you waiting for? Go on – get back to work!"

Cinderella bobbed a curtsy and quickly made her way out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Despite her stepmother's harsh tone, she could scarcely keep from dancing down the hallway. It was strange, how light she felt.

But had she stayed and peeked through the keyhole, she would have seen something even stranger, for the stately Lady Tremaine sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp, then threw back the covers and dashed to her wardrobe. "Lucifer," she murmured as she began dressing rapidly, "it seems the game has not yet been played out." A sly smile pulled at the corners of her thin mouth.

"And I intend to win."


	10. Teach Me How I Should Forget

**Chapter 10: Teach Me How I Should Forget**

_I expect I can't blame this entire ordeal on Father. I did rather provoke him when I said the diplomatic visit he'd planned was - how did I put it? - a "dishonorable sham," I believe I said._

_No, that didn't go over at all well._

_Nor when I told him that I would not marry until I found a woman I truly believed worthy of it. I expect that remark was what prompted this particular scheme. If he would only **listen** for once instead of barking out demands the way he does… I do understand the importance of establishing an heir. But the thought of choosing a woman simply for breeding purposes makes my skin crawl - as though one were purchasing a sow at the county fair!_

_A queen should be more than that. A queen should be kind, and wise, and generous, and patient…_

_A politically expedient match would also be a good idea, as Uncle has repeatedly impressed upon me. Finding someone suitable will be fairly straightforward. I shall simply make a list of potential candidates and observe their interactions with others to see how well they fulfill the necessary qualities._

_Love - well, one must be practical. Putting one's own hopes ahead of what's best for the nation is selfish and ignoble._

_I'm sure that, in time, I shall forget all about her._

The door to the library swung open, and a short, stout figure waddled briskly in. "Ah! There you are, m'boy! I'm glad that went so well. We'll have to wait until morning to speak with the archbishop, but I'm sure he'll have no objection to performing a royal wedding. Where shall we send you for your honeymoon? I'm partial to the Mediterranean, myself, but I hear the Alps are beautiful this time of year."

The prince frowned, walking toward the older man. "Father, I'm not quite sure I understand." He drew a careful breath. "Did she come back?"

"What, the girl?" The king waved one hand dismissively. "Nah, haven't seen her. No idea where she ran off to. But that doesn't matter. I sent Clarence out with that shoe, and when he finds somebody it fits, he'll bring 'er back here and the two of you can be wed!" Grinning broadly, he wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and laughed.

"But – that could be anyone!" the prince said, comprehension slowly dawning.

The king nodded. "Yep, I know. Damn stupid of you to make a vow like that, but since y'did, son, I expect you to keep it. Family honor and all that."

The prince was silent for several long moments, and then he simply nodded. "Of course."

"Good!" The king clapped his son on the shoulder, and then walked back toward the door. "That's settled, then. Glad you're being so sensible about it. I'll be on my way – there's lots to do in planning a wedding!"

"And… if she doesn't _want_ to marry me?"

The king whirled, his face quickly flushing a deep purply-red. "What? Don't be ridiculous! Any woman would be glad to have you – you're the prince, after all!"

The prince took several firm strides toward his father. "I will not marry any woman against her will. No, Father. You may hold me to my word, but nothing more; you cannot – you WILL not – require her to marry me." He held up a hand against the king's sputtered protest. "And, after all, you're probably right: I am the prince." He looked out the window, and his shoulders drooped slightly. "Why would any woman refuse the chance to be queen?"


	11. The Labors of Clarence

**Chapter 11: The Labors of Clarence**

* * *

At every house, the same ritual played out, over and over, in the small hours of the morning. The footman announced him as he entered, the members of the family bowed and curtsied as introductions were made, and one by one, the daughters were paraded before him in their finery.

He didn't see why his nephew had to be so very particular; any of them could have made a decent queen. _Well, almost any,_ he reflected with a sigh as he stepped up into the carriage again as another family was checked off the footman's list. But the king's order had been precise, not to mention _very_ emphatic: only a young lady whose foot fit the slipper that had been left behind would be acceptable.

As the night wore on, the Grand Duke lost track of how many houses they had visited. And once they'd finished inside the city and began to try the estates in the surrounding countryside, the journey between each one took longer and longer, and he found himself nodding off briefly, only to be abruptly awakened as the carriage jolted to a stop again. The interior was cushioned and padded, but he still found himself clutching at the slipper in terror when it jostled in his hands.

He stepped down from the carriage, wincing at the glare of the early-morning sun. The footman closed the carriage door and then raced past him up to the house to announce him. _Was I once that young and energetic?_ mused the Grand Duke with a heavy sigh. He had found the boy's exuberance grating from time to time that night, but he supposed it was a credit to the lad that he performed his duties so enthusiastically. It also meant that he didn't have to worry about waking anyone other than himself, which was good, as that was becoming more and more difficult.

His curt response to the lady's greeting skirted the border of rudeness, but he was exhausted past the point of caring. _This house will be just like the others_, he thought as he looked at the two eager young women who sat before him. He'd only gotten a few brief glimpses of the girl who'd so charmed his nephew, but he felt quite certain that neither of these two, with their homely faces, shrill voices, and selfish, greedy ways could possibly be her.

The moment he lifted his hand, the footman raced over to the first girl, who lifted the hem of her skirt daintily and snorted a giggle as her foot perfectly filled the tiny slipper. _Impossible!_ he gasped to himself. He knew it couldn't be her. But at the same time the king's orders had been so _very _clear, after all. And he was tired – so very, very tired – and quite ready to stop looking. Perhaps he even could make it back to the palace in time for breakfast.

But when the footman raised the slipper in triumph, the girl's skirt fell back, revealing that her heel was not actually in the slipper. "Oh!" she said in dismay, twisting nervously at her curls. "Well it fit just fine last night," she tried to explain, her laughter high and tense. The footman diligently pounded away, trying to shove the girl's foot further into the shoe, but it was clearly no use.

_Another hopeless case_. He wondered how long a person could go without sleep and waved for the next girl without paying much attention.

Her feet seemed to be even bigger than her sister's, though, and no matter how much the young man pushed and pried, it did no good. "Stupid!" cried the second girl, her sharp voice tightening the knot of pain at the Grand Duke's temple. "I'll do it myself!" She reached out and rapped the footman on the head, and he stumbled away.

With her tongue clamped between her teeth as she concentrated, the second sister grunted and strained, but finally sat up in white-faced triumph. "There," she breathed. "It fits."

Her mother's eyes lit up. "It fits!" she cried.

The Grand Duke leaned forward. "It fits?" he gasped eagerly.

But they had all spoken too soon, for the girl's foot abruptly sprang free from its unnatural confinement, sending the delicate slipper flying through the air. He rushed forward, gaze fixed on the sparkling glass, and ran right into the footman. They both landed in a heap as the slipper plummeted toward the sleek marble floor. The Grand Duke looked up and reached his hand out just in time to snatch it out of the air, and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

He managed to disentangle himself with some modicum of dignity and made his way to the door, but just before he left the house, he heard another voice. Which was odd, because the matron had _clearly_ said there was no one else. He turned, reluctantly, and then froze in place, for the faded skirt she wore was so short that it clearly showed slim calves, dainty ankles… and feet that were astonishingly small.

She sat in the same large chair the others had, and he knelt before her to fit the shoe for her himself, waving the footman over. But a moment later, he heard a thump, followed by a sudden smash, and found himself looking at broken shards on the floor in front of him. "Oh no," he whispered. "Oh, no, no, no…"

His brother's temper was legendary, and he had left no doubt about the consequences of failure. The girl in the chair tried to console him, which was a nice gesture, but completely pointless, of course, except that _she has the other slipper._ Even though he'd gotten sick of looking at its match, he realized he had never been so delighted to see an article of feminine apparel in his life.

And of course, it fit perfectly.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First of all, I want to thank anyone who's been waiting for an update. You truly have the patience of a saint! With that said, I also must mention that I'm still keeping this fic listed as "on hiatus." Right now my focus is on finishing "Best Laid Plans," my Star Wars fic.

I think this scene is consistent with the movie, but I'm going from memory as I don't actually own it. Please let me know if you notice any discrepancies; I 'panned past' some elements from the scene, but I hope I haven't contradicted it. And of course, I made up the name of the Grand Duke. I don't know, he just _seems_ like a "Clarence" to me!

Reviews welcome and desperately longed for. Don't be a stranger! :D


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